I thought it was a bomb blast. Even hallucinated limbs flying and blood splashing all over. Thought all my life’s pain and joy ends there. But it wasn’t. Nothing happened. It was just a crackers show for a marriage reception. Crackers? Marriage? Seriously! Well, it should be normal. Except for the extravaganza, what’s wrong in it? The guests were impressed! Oh my fucking god! You call that a marriage reception buffet? It was like you stepped into some food festival! From North to South of India. From panipuri to kappayum ulli chathachathum! People were gobbling up. Disgustingly. So did I. Ate in silence. Self humiliated by the crowd’s gluttony and the splendour of money in every object around me.
The hatred wasn’t instant. It brewed in me, ever since I started looking around and observing these marriage dramas around me. In the first place, I wouldn’t have gone at all except for the pressure from my caretakers now. With my parents, I know what would have I done. A stern ‘no’ and I’m not going for any drama. But today, I had no choice. Posing for a group photo with people you meet for the first time in my life? NO WAY! But what did I do? I went along. Not like me. Never like me. But luckily, the camera didn’t care enough to click! Had I opposed, would it have been bossing them? Or just genuinely my right to voice my choice? I was worried. So I acted as instructed. As expected. The ideal me.
Its ridiculous. I didn’t do it with total unwillingness. Some part of me said its okay to attempt the change. I attempted. That’s it. No more of it. Done with changes. Life is perfect for me the way it is.
The Last Straw 